


Two Kinds of Cats

by AStupidUserName420



Category: French Revolution RPF, Italian RPF - Fandom
Genre: First Meetings, Fluff, Kittens, M/M, off screen animal abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-03 00:02:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16797400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AStupidUserName420/pseuds/AStupidUserName420
Summary: Maxime is not a cat person. Despite several people calling him cat-like to his face he greatly prefers dogs. However, after finding an abandoned kitten in the rain and meeting a local cat lover name Leo, Maxime might need to reassess that part of his personality.





	Two Kinds of Cats

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Call it ‘Max and Leo Headcanons the Fic’. Leonardo’s cats are of course named after Marilyn Monroe and Buster Keaton. Also I wrote this finals week with 16 pages due and having not finished my NaNoWriMo. When I need to write my guys, I NEED to write my guys. Also procrastination.

Everything happened because Maximilien left work early. 

His last client canceled and a quick check on the weather promised rain. He checked his work and decided there was no reason he couldn’t leave and maybe actually cook dinner for once instead of eating it still half cold over the sink. 

Maximilien had left his bike at his flat that day, expecting to take the train, but since it was still only threatening to storm he found himself walking quickly as the sky grew ever darker. The promised deluge finally started when he was still a few blocks from home. Maxime cursed and started striding more urgently towards home. 

It was raining hard enough that Maxime nearly missed the tiny note of sound. He passed in front of the narrow space between two buildings, where there was only space for trash cans when it caught his attention. Maxime slowed, blinking into the darkness as water dripped down his cheeks and the back of his neck. 

“Mew.” 

Maxime stared at the trash cans, slowly approaching, listening carefully just in case he misheard. 

“Mew.” 

It was even quieter and Maximilien leapt forward, grabbing the lid off the can. 

It took him a moment to spot it among the rubbish, but the stilted movement gave it away. Wet and shivering, a tiny black kitten stared up at him with green eyes. It hunched down and let out another squeal as raindrops started landing on its fur.

Maximilien had often been called too tender for his own good, especially when it came to animals or children. While cats were not his personal favorite, he knew he couldn’t possibly leave it out here in the cold rain and smog to die a painful death. 

He let the kitten smell his hand before gently grabbing it up, then poking around the bags, grimly making sure there were no others before closing it again and hurrying towards his flat, clutching the furry bundle close. 

Soon enough Max was fumbling to get the door open, the kitten having sunk it’s tiny claws into his sweater as he gripped it. It was squeaking it’s complaints now, clearly unimpressed with Maxime’s clumsy handling. Brount was waiting when he opened the door, standing up and shaking his tail. 

“Hello, my lad. Stay,” he greeted the Great Dane as he came forward to sniff curiously at his cupped hands. Brount sat, watching him curiously. 

Maxime disentangled the cat from his clothing, setting it gently on the table, where it hunched down, wet fur bristling pathetically and ears flat to its head. 

Concerned, Maximilien gathered up an old box, a moth-eaten towel and his space heater. Ignoring the warning hiss, he rubbed the kitten down, then set it in the box with the towel next to the heater.

He grabbed his phone, quickly searching for ‘ _ What to feed a kitten? _ ’

Maxime rummaged through his pantry. He pulled the cream out his refrigerator, pouring a small amount into a shallow bowl and setting it in front of the kitten. It looked up at him and squeaked.

He dipped the tip of his finger into the cream and offered it to the kitten who sniffed but turned it’s head away. Max frowned, distressed.

He fretted as he removed his jacket and placed his bag down. He didn’t have a baby bottle or eye dropper to use for the kitten. Brount nudged his hand, whining slightly. Maxime patted him and wondered what to do. 

Max heard a door shut somewhere under his feet and had a sudden flash of insight.

“Brount, please watch the kitten,” he muttered, grabbing his keys and phone before heading out the door. 

Maxime knew that the resident of the first floor flat had cats. He had seen him carrying in tins of cat food and litter when they had eclipsed each other at the door or stair landing. Maybe he would have some idea of how to take care of a kitten. 

He knocked on the door, fiddling with his phone. 

“Un momento!” 

Heavy footsteps came towards the door and then it swung open. 

“Si? Oh hello.” 

Maxime’s did not know very much about his downstairs neighbor. He knew he had at least one cat, that he spoke with a heavy Italian accent and he had broken up with his boyfriend. Maxime knew the last fact because their voices had carried loudly through the floorboards on the night it happened. Outside of these facts, Maxime didn’t really know what to expect from the other man.

However, now Maxime was taking a good look at him: his paint-stained clothing, his hair pulled back from his face, his beard neatly trimmed and the width of his shoulders Max could add another fact to his list. 

His downstairs neighbor was very attractive. 

Maxime cleared his throat. “Hello. Sorry to impose but I live above you and I was wondering-”

“I’m not being too loud am I? I recently downsized my speakers and I hoped that solved the problem,” he interrupted. 

“What? Oh no, that’s not what I’m here about.” Max took a deep breath. “I was under the impression that you have a cat?” 

His neighbor blinked. “Si?” 

“Do you have any experiences with kittens?”

His neighbor blinked again. “Si.” 

“Well I found one. A kitten I mean,” Maxime clarified. “It’s upstairs and I don’t know how to feed it. I was hoping-”

The man disappeared back into his flat leaving Maxime hovering in his doorway. 

“You can come in, I just have to grab some things!” He called. 

After a moment of hesitation, Maxime stepped in. He could feel the bewildered look that landed on his face as he stared around. 

The flat seemed like the cross between an engineering lab and what Maximilien imagined the dressing rooms of Hollywood movies looked like. A vivisected computer laid on top of a pile of fabric scraps. Diagrams of gears and circuit boards were pinned next to sketches of flamboyant costumes.

Maximilien was so absorbed in looking around that he jumped when something brushed across his ankles. He looked down to see a large Siamese cat bump it’s head against his calf again, looking up at him with bright eyes before letting out a loud meow.

There was the sound of cabinets banging open and shut. Maxime looked over and his neighbor reappeared, clutching a bag, with a stethoscope hung around his neck.

“Mi dispiace, I couldn’t quite remember where I left these last.” He noticed the cat that was now standing on Maxime’s feet, pawing at him and laughed. “Buster, leave him alone, here.” In a blink he was across the room and scooping the large cat up, depositing him the settee.

He turned to roll his eyes at Maxime. “Sorry, he thinks everyone who enters is here to feed him, the glutton. You said the kitten was in your flat?”

XXX

Maximilien fumbled with the lock and pushed open the door. Brount rose to his feet again, tail already wagging. A flash of guilt assaulted him: he hadn’t even fed Brount yet tonight.

“Who is this?” His neighbor asked bending down slightly to let Brount sniff him. “He’s lovely.” 

“Merci. Brount is a good boy,” Maxime said with a fond smile. He walked over to the table, lifting the towel off the box. The kitten was curled up in a corner, covering its face with its paws. 

“Povero getting!” His neighbor said, setting his bag and stethoscope on the table and gently scooping the kitten up into his large hands. The kitten slowly woke, mewing. It rubbed it’s head on his hands when neighbor placed it on the table. 

“She’s young, still has blue in her eyes,” he murmured.

“She?” Maximilien asked. His neighbor turned the kitten around and gently lifted the tail. 

“She.” His neighbor confirmed. He hummed as he gently examined the kitten, cooing about how lovely she was, how she was brave and gentle and now safe in good hands. 

“She seems to be touched malnourished. I can show you how to make kitten formula and feed her. She probably won’t need milk for much longer though. You can probably start mixing it with solids.” He told Maxime. “Where did you find her?”

“In some dumpster, on my way home.”

His neighbor’s face darken and he snorted. “Despicable. That kitten should still be nursing. Where there any others?”

Maxime shook his head. His neighbor let out a sigh. 

“Well. Thank goodness for that. Let me help you check her for fleas and I can see if I still have any kitten food that’s good.” 

Maxime blinked. “Oh thank you. I’ve had experience with puppies before but never cats.” As if sensing he was being mentioned, Brount butted his head against Max’s hand, whining. Maxime flushed, glancing at his neighbor. 

“Just let me feed him,” Maxime mumbled.

He was waved away. “Of course! Of course!”

Maxime’s hands trembled slightly as he scooped out the dog food, Brount waiting patiently, long whip-like tail wagging rapidly. 

“Alright, Brount. Bon appetit,” he said and Brount lunged at the raised dog bowl nearly knocking Max into the counter. 

His neighbor watched, holding the kitten. “He’s very well trained.”

“I picked him from the litter when he was a week old. We’ve had a long time to get used to each other,” Max said with a fond smile. 

The other man smiled, brown eyes bright. “Still you are good with him. Most don’t know how to train their big dogs.” He waved Maxime over. “Come and I will show you how to feed the gattino.” 

Maxime started forward but he felt his heel slip on a stray piece of kibble. He tried to catch himself on the counter, but he could feel his fingertips slide off the marble. Before he could resign himself to meeting the hardwood floor, however, a warm hand wrapped around his arm and he instead was pressed into a broad muscular chest.

“Careful mon amico,” his neighbor said and Max raised his eyes up to meet his. “I’d hate for you to fall for me so soon,” he winked and set a speechless Max on his feet. 

Maximilien was a flattering beet red as his neighbor held the kitten in one large hand and held the bottle to her mouth. He eased it into her and it only took the kitten a moment to realize what it was before she was suckling eagerly. 

“When you do it, make sure you don’t squeeze the bottle. She could breath in the milk, just hold her gently. Here,” he said, gently easing the bottle out of her mouth, as she squeaked in protest. He manipulated Max’s hands around it, then held the kitten still and Max clumsily copied the movement. Her front paws kneaded at his fingers as she ate. Her ears fluttered, eyes closing in contentment.

The neighbor stroked one long finger over her head and back, cooing at her and smiling gently. 

“She's old enough that you can probably use a litter box. I have an extra, downstairs,” he said. 

It was on the tip of Maxime’s tongue to refuse.  _ Oh no. I can’t keep the kitten. You’re the one with the cats and the experience. _ But his brown eyes were very large and sincere as he looked at Max, so Max found himself nodding. 

“Excellent! I think I also have an extra water dish that will be suitable for her,” he said and was quickly striding out the door. 

Max sighed shakily and gently placed the kitten back into her box when she had finished eating. Her muzzle was slightly messy with the formula and Max shook out his handkerchief to wipe it away. 

She looked up at him and mewed. 

“Don’t you start,” he chided her. 

She mewed again, clawing at the box. Her green eyes were beseeching as he sighed and picked her back up. 

The neighbor returned, with far more than the promised litter box. He came baring toys and litter mix and tinned food and a tiny sweater with a fish on it that he presented proudly. 

“This was for my kittens. Paris can be cold,” he said as he fit it over to her head. She squeaked her complaints, clawing at his hand. “She’ll want to curl up with you and the dog tonight, I bet.” 

_ I’d like to curl up with you, _ Max thought wildly. 

He sorted through the items, explaining each one and filled the shallow plastic pan with litter and placed the kitten in it, gently keeping her there as he encouraged her to use it. He praised her heartily when she finally did, purring back at her when she buttered her head against his hand. 

“I’ve never met anyone who knew this much about kittens,” Max complimented him. 

The man smiled. “I worked as a vet for a time. And I hand reared Marilyn and Buster.” 

Max’s eyebrows rose. “I thought you worked away from home?” He said thoughtlessly, before flushing hotly. It had been the main crux of the fight between him and the ex-boyfriend. 

The man stopped petting the kitten before he looked over at Max with a strained smile that did not reach his eyes. 

“I do. Or I did. Things have changed,” he said softly.

“Je desole. That was rude, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Maxime said quickly. The man shook his head. 

“No, I understand. These walls are paper thin.” He shrugged. “To be fair I know you get home very late every day and leave very early every morning. And typically you have a bike,” he said, a smile coming back slowly. 

Max flushed. “Oui. I’m a lawyer.” He held out his hand. “Maximilien Robespierre, esquire.” 

The neighbor smiled and took it in his. “I am Leonardo Valta. I’m an artist.”

Maximilien smiled shyly. “It’s my pleasure,” he said. 

XXXXX

Three months later. 

Maxime took a deep breath and knocked on the door. 

Leonardo only took a moment to open it and he smiled broadly. “Maxime! Come in!” he said waving Maxime in. “What are you doing home so early? Is everything alright?” He frowned, sitting next to Max on the settee, which was half covered in fabric samples. “Sphinx isn’t still eating your ties?” He half teased. 

Maxime flushed but smiled. “Non. She seems to have gotten passed it. I think Brount may have begun to try and train her like she’s his puppy.” 

Leonardo laughed, delighted. Maxime flushed slightly and took another deep breath, steeling himself.

Over the previous months, he and Leonardo had begun habitually dropping by the other’s flat, asking about each other’s animals. Leonardo had even given Max his phone number and asked him to watch Marilyn and Buster while he had to fly to the U.S. for a series of pick-up shoots on a film.

Devastatingly, Maxime’s crush had not alleviated at all, instead only intensifying the more time he spent in Leonardo’s company. 

“Maxime? Are you alright?” Leonardo asked. “You’re quiet, amico.” 

He raised his eyes to meet Leonardo’s brown ones. “I’m contemplating a question,” he said solemnly. 

Leonardo tilted his head and clasped his hands before leaning closer to Maxime. 

“What question?”

“Would you go to dinner with me? This Friday?” Max asked quickly, trying to stop his voice from breaking in nervousness. 

Leonardo blinked, mouth dropping open slightly in shock before a red flush slowly overtook his face. 

“You mean, romantically? I hope?” He asked softly. Maxime could barely contain his smile and bravely reached out to brush his fingers over the back of his knuckles. 

“Oui. If you want.” 

Leonardo opened his hands and gently cupped Maximilien’s, as if they were as delicate and breakable as any kitten he’d handled before. 

“I  _ want _ , very very badly,” Leonardo assured him softly, smiling broadly. 

“Then it’s a date,” Maxime said, leaning forward to whisper the affirmation in his ear.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Non-ending is a non-ending. Viva la Leo/Maxime.


End file.
